ChronoReaver

The rumbling sounds of great machines. Echoing in the afternoon's warmth. Gears clanking, Valves hissing, In the afternoon's sun. Rusted pipes; Overgrown by grass. A chimney exhaled black smoke.                Smoke, which blocked sunlight. A puddle of toxins. Formed from an old pipe. From which a viscous liquid dripped,                                                      dripped,                                                                   and dripped. In the afternoon's warmth; With sunlight blocked, by a cover of darkeness. Darkness, made by the ever methodical; Clanking gears. And        a dripping        

First came the Dawn Swift as a sword blow they were And in the shining sunrise The bane of the Primordials awakened The Zenith soon followed the Dawn Burning with the mighty of a thousand fires They rode forth Bringing scorching destruction to the Undead Then the Twilight came As a candle in nightfall, they persisted Walking scrolled paths They brought light to the Waking Darkness The Night came from Darkness itself But with the inner light of a burning Sun Swift in their feet, and true with their arrows Dispatching those who inhabited Shadows Darkness almost overwhelmed the Light-Bringers But in the Dark Noon, when the Moon